bamftastik
in
zevran
Origin: Pr0n
Alright, so Zev's origin story has been BEGGING for some fic. Romance! Betrayal! Tragedy! But, Zev being Zev, it's also obviously going to involve a decent amount of SMUT.
Smut in general is a bit outside of my comfort zone (am a teasing angst-monger) but if I want to gnaw upon this delicious bit of drama, I'm going to try and do it right dammit!
*blushes* *hides*
Any feedback would be greatly appreciated because... yeeeah, I'm repressed.
Title: Insufferable, chapter 1
Pairing: Zevran/Taliesin
Rating: (so very) NSFW
Words: 1,400
Summary: A stranger to Ferelden reflects upon the past and on the path ahead.
Denerim. The city certainly had a… unique air, the stench of mud and sweat and wet dog. The jewel of Ferelden, they said, where all the great and heaving stink of this land came to die. But it was only fitting, was it not?
The halls were drafty, unadorned, his host a sneering, sniveling minor lord. Even here reputation granted no respect; even here he was no more than a tool. But still he smiled, still he did his best to charm. Arl Howe, though, was unimpressed.
This was nothing to the other man. Hulking and taciturn, armored even behind these walls, he barely looked up from his maps. He had seen that look before, the fingers barely straying from the page, curling, caressing, lingering at its edges.
This man craved power as most men craved flesh.
And still he scowled disgusted, surprise at Howe’s proposal barely flickering as he turned away.
“Just get it done.”
* * *
He had recruited them from city’s dregs, the whores and thieves and alley rats. It had not been difficult; always he had a way of finding such places, of swaying others to his cause. Part of his charm, he had once thought. There had even been rumor of two other Crows in the city. One, at least, had recognized his name, the other agreeable perhaps only out of curiosity, out of boredom. He couldn’t blame him. Denerim was a city of very few whorehouses and even less coin.
They camped beyond the city now, the last rumor having put their marks somewhere in the Western Bannorn. Away beyond the trees the fire blazed, ringing with the snorts and grunts and thick laughter of his new companions. He had to wonder at that. He had come here for a purpose, unspoken but undoubted. Why then, had he recruited help?
Fear, even now?
But he had always used others, had never worked alone. And that had been his undoing, had it not? Curling his legs beneath him, he leaned back against the tree and let his eyes fall shut.
* * *
What was is the old master had said? “Keep an eye behind you on the battlefield and in the bedroom.” Burying a laugh in the pillows, Zevran flexed his wrists, straining against their bonds. Sometimes, though, it was hard to tell which was which.
Rough hands trailed along his back, lingering searching over the intricate whorls there. Twisting, he could almost see him, shoulders hunching, eyes squeezing shut as those hands slid lower still. They found his hips, grip tightening painfully, but he was moving now, sliding away across the sheets, keeping just out of reach.
The sigh came heavy, the voice already thick and gruff. “What are you doing?”
He did laugh then, the anger, the obvious frustration intoxicating. Taliesin had never been one for games.
Pulling again against his bonds, he felt the supple leather give, slackening enough to allow him to twist his wrists, flopping over onto his back. The other man rose above him, the smile coming thick and crooked. “Tied those knots myself.”
“So you did.”
There was something more there now, deep and wicked and hungry. A game, yes, but one to be played carefully. Taliesin could not know how much he needed him.
Arms straining, he leveled himself upward, lips finding the roughness of the other man’s chin, nibbling, searching kisses pulling the lips down to meet his own. And down he drew him, down amongst the pillows, arching upward to press against his chest. He felt him then, hot and warm and eager, twisting, pressing against his thigh. The gasp came pained, buried in his neck, choking, panting, denied.
He could only laugh, the muffled rumble coming deeper now.
Once more he twisted, the bonds giving entire, the hand coming hard to Taliesin’s throat.
He rocked back, eyes widening in breathless surprise, fear flickering there. But Zevran held that gaze, the smile challenging, playful, wicked. It was Taliesin who laughed now.
Zevran spun easily, twisting the other man beneath him, the laugh swelling as his grip tightened. Shrugging out of the other bond, he crouched over his chest, hair trailing cross his face. In a swift motion, he knotted the straps round Taliesin’s wrists, sitting back to watch him struggle.
The tightness rippled through his chest as he strained, the chuckle coming bemused… impressed.
He slid lower now, tracing his lips along the already slick neck, sliding his hands up and across the other man’s ribs. His teeth left their own trail, drawing gasp after groaning gasp, slipping sideways to graze across a small and hardened nipple.
As he traced lower still, tongue snaking along the tensing lines of his abdomen, Taliesin stirred, the words tumbling half-muttered.
“Zev…”
“Mmm?”
“Don’t…”
He stopped then, propping himself up on an elbow. “Don’t what?”
The other man only shuddered, head lolling between his shoulders.
“You will have to speak up, my friend.”
“You… absolute… bastard.”
He grinned, running his tongue across his lips. Taliesin had managed to level himself up enough to glare. “Don’t. Fucking. Stop.”
“Ahh, but why did you not say so?”
Head snapping back with a strangled cry, Taliesin’s hips surged upward, writhing, straining, finding welcome at last. The laugh came thick and deep in Zevran’s throat.
Soon enough he let his own eyes fall shut, shoulders straining as he hunched low and drank deep. There was music here, the echo of the lillo flutes, the swirl of half-imagined light, blessed, whirling calm. But it swelled now, a deep and flickering star, growing, surging, dancing behind his vision. His head snapped up with a gasp.
He buried his face there, nibbling against the other man’s thigh, kissing, licking still. Slowly, he raised his eyes. Slower still did Taliesin come round, eyes opening with a desperate groan.
Once more he gave over to lingering kisses, never breaking that gaze. “So, my friend… are you in?”
“What?” There was disbelief there, fading as his head fell back, hips writhing beneath the sudden pull.
But again Zevan shifted away, meeting his eyes. “Are you in?”
“Oh, Maker…” He shook his head. “Yes, yes, I’m in. Dammit! Yes!”
“Mmm. Good.” Slipping lower now, his laugh was lost beneath the those cries.
The game had been won but it was later, before the first straining heralds of the sun, that the deal was well and truly struck.
“You’re absolutely mad, you know.”
Turning, he adjusted the folds of his belt, letting the overlapping leathers fall. “Am I?”
Taliesin’s gaze was openly appraising, following the movement as they settled against his thighs. “Without a doubt. I don’t believe your bid was accepted.”
“It was.”
“Well then I don’t believe I agreed to help you.”
Bending to retrieve his tunic, Zevran quirked a brow.
“Okay, that I do believe. You’re still a bastard, by the way. But tell me you at least have some sort of plan.”
“Always.”
“Anything I should know about?”
“No.”
Taliesin snorted, flopping back amongst the pillows. “’Course not. But what about a team? The merchant has a full complement of guards. Surely we’ll need more than just the pair of us.”
He could feel the eyes on his back as he slid the leathers over his head. “You have someone in mind?”
“It’s up to you. The new girl, maybe? What’s her name?”
He turned then, the grin stirring before he could stop it. “Rinna. Her name is Rinna.”
“Riiight.” It was Taliesin’s turn to smirk. “Bedded her yet?”
“It is only a matter of time, my friend, only a matter of time.”
“Except I’m pretty sure she hates you. What was the word exactly…? Insufferable.”
He had only smiled.
* * *
Still the word was bitter, the whisper tinged with her thick and lingering laugh. He could see it still, those eyes growing wide, begging, pleading, strangely-
He spun at the sound, blade coming to hand. There was more surprise than fear there, the woman holding up her hands in careful supplication. Serah. Even with a blade at her throat, the whore did not see death, did not truly realize…
Moving round him, she smirked. “Are all you Crows so jumpy?”
With a snort he sheathed the blade, folding his arms as he leaned again against the tree.
There was laughter behind her eyes, that thick and smoky hunger. “You comin’ to bed?”
Ahh well, there was that. He was a man in his last days, after all.
EDIT: Since there are probably going to be quite a few more of these, would anyone be willing to beta? ;D
Smut in general is a bit outside of my comfort zone (am a teasing angst-monger) but if I want to gnaw upon this delicious bit of drama, I'm going to try and do it right dammit!
*blushes* *hides*
Any feedback would be greatly appreciated because... yeeeah, I'm repressed.
Title: Insufferable, chapter 1
Pairing: Zevran/Taliesin
Rating: (so very) NSFW
Words: 1,400
Summary: A stranger to Ferelden reflects upon the past and on the path ahead.
Denerim. The city certainly had a… unique air, the stench of mud and sweat and wet dog. The jewel of Ferelden, they said, where all the great and heaving stink of this land came to die. But it was only fitting, was it not?
The halls were drafty, unadorned, his host a sneering, sniveling minor lord. Even here reputation granted no respect; even here he was no more than a tool. But still he smiled, still he did his best to charm. Arl Howe, though, was unimpressed.
This was nothing to the other man. Hulking and taciturn, armored even behind these walls, he barely looked up from his maps. He had seen that look before, the fingers barely straying from the page, curling, caressing, lingering at its edges.
This man craved power as most men craved flesh.
And still he scowled disgusted, surprise at Howe’s proposal barely flickering as he turned away.
“Just get it done.”
* * *
He had recruited them from city’s dregs, the whores and thieves and alley rats. It had not been difficult; always he had a way of finding such places, of swaying others to his cause. Part of his charm, he had once thought. There had even been rumor of two other Crows in the city. One, at least, had recognized his name, the other agreeable perhaps only out of curiosity, out of boredom. He couldn’t blame him. Denerim was a city of very few whorehouses and even less coin.
They camped beyond the city now, the last rumor having put their marks somewhere in the Western Bannorn. Away beyond the trees the fire blazed, ringing with the snorts and grunts and thick laughter of his new companions. He had to wonder at that. He had come here for a purpose, unspoken but undoubted. Why then, had he recruited help?
Fear, even now?
But he had always used others, had never worked alone. And that had been his undoing, had it not? Curling his legs beneath him, he leaned back against the tree and let his eyes fall shut.
* * *
What was is the old master had said? “Keep an eye behind you on the battlefield and in the bedroom.” Burying a laugh in the pillows, Zevran flexed his wrists, straining against their bonds. Sometimes, though, it was hard to tell which was which.
Rough hands trailed along his back, lingering searching over the intricate whorls there. Twisting, he could almost see him, shoulders hunching, eyes squeezing shut as those hands slid lower still. They found his hips, grip tightening painfully, but he was moving now, sliding away across the sheets, keeping just out of reach.
The sigh came heavy, the voice already thick and gruff. “What are you doing?”
He did laugh then, the anger, the obvious frustration intoxicating. Taliesin had never been one for games.
Pulling again against his bonds, he felt the supple leather give, slackening enough to allow him to twist his wrists, flopping over onto his back. The other man rose above him, the smile coming thick and crooked. “Tied those knots myself.”
“So you did.”
There was something more there now, deep and wicked and hungry. A game, yes, but one to be played carefully. Taliesin could not know how much he needed him.
Arms straining, he leveled himself upward, lips finding the roughness of the other man’s chin, nibbling, searching kisses pulling the lips down to meet his own. And down he drew him, down amongst the pillows, arching upward to press against his chest. He felt him then, hot and warm and eager, twisting, pressing against his thigh. The gasp came pained, buried in his neck, choking, panting, denied.
He could only laugh, the muffled rumble coming deeper now.
Once more he twisted, the bonds giving entire, the hand coming hard to Taliesin’s throat.
He rocked back, eyes widening in breathless surprise, fear flickering there. But Zevran held that gaze, the smile challenging, playful, wicked. It was Taliesin who laughed now.
Zevran spun easily, twisting the other man beneath him, the laugh swelling as his grip tightened. Shrugging out of the other bond, he crouched over his chest, hair trailing cross his face. In a swift motion, he knotted the straps round Taliesin’s wrists, sitting back to watch him struggle.
The tightness rippled through his chest as he strained, the chuckle coming bemused… impressed.
He slid lower now, tracing his lips along the already slick neck, sliding his hands up and across the other man’s ribs. His teeth left their own trail, drawing gasp after groaning gasp, slipping sideways to graze across a small and hardened nipple.
As he traced lower still, tongue snaking along the tensing lines of his abdomen, Taliesin stirred, the words tumbling half-muttered.
“Zev…”
“Mmm?”
“Don’t…”
He stopped then, propping himself up on an elbow. “Don’t what?”
The other man only shuddered, head lolling between his shoulders.
“You will have to speak up, my friend.”
“You… absolute… bastard.”
He grinned, running his tongue across his lips. Taliesin had managed to level himself up enough to glare. “Don’t. Fucking. Stop.”
“Ahh, but why did you not say so?”
Head snapping back with a strangled cry, Taliesin’s hips surged upward, writhing, straining, finding welcome at last. The laugh came thick and deep in Zevran’s throat.
Soon enough he let his own eyes fall shut, shoulders straining as he hunched low and drank deep. There was music here, the echo of the lillo flutes, the swirl of half-imagined light, blessed, whirling calm. But it swelled now, a deep and flickering star, growing, surging, dancing behind his vision. His head snapped up with a gasp.
He buried his face there, nibbling against the other man’s thigh, kissing, licking still. Slowly, he raised his eyes. Slower still did Taliesin come round, eyes opening with a desperate groan.
Once more he gave over to lingering kisses, never breaking that gaze. “So, my friend… are you in?”
“What?” There was disbelief there, fading as his head fell back, hips writhing beneath the sudden pull.
But again Zevan shifted away, meeting his eyes. “Are you in?”
“Oh, Maker…” He shook his head. “Yes, yes, I’m in. Dammit! Yes!”
“Mmm. Good.” Slipping lower now, his laugh was lost beneath the those cries.
The game had been won but it was later, before the first straining heralds of the sun, that the deal was well and truly struck.
“You’re absolutely mad, you know.”
Turning, he adjusted the folds of his belt, letting the overlapping leathers fall. “Am I?”
Taliesin’s gaze was openly appraising, following the movement as they settled against his thighs. “Without a doubt. I don’t believe your bid was accepted.”
“It was.”
“Well then I don’t believe I agreed to help you.”
Bending to retrieve his tunic, Zevran quirked a brow.
“Okay, that I do believe. You’re still a bastard, by the way. But tell me you at least have some sort of plan.”
“Always.”
“Anything I should know about?”
“No.”
Taliesin snorted, flopping back amongst the pillows. “’Course not. But what about a team? The merchant has a full complement of guards. Surely we’ll need more than just the pair of us.”
He could feel the eyes on his back as he slid the leathers over his head. “You have someone in mind?”
“It’s up to you. The new girl, maybe? What’s her name?”
He turned then, the grin stirring before he could stop it. “Rinna. Her name is Rinna.”
“Riiight.” It was Taliesin’s turn to smirk. “Bedded her yet?”
“It is only a matter of time, my friend, only a matter of time.”
“Except I’m pretty sure she hates you. What was the word exactly…? Insufferable.”
He had only smiled.
* * *
Still the word was bitter, the whisper tinged with her thick and lingering laugh. He could see it still, those eyes growing wide, begging, pleading, strangely-
He spun at the sound, blade coming to hand. There was more surprise than fear there, the woman holding up her hands in careful supplication. Serah. Even with a blade at her throat, the whore did not see death, did not truly realize…
Moving round him, she smirked. “Are all you Crows so jumpy?”
With a snort he sheathed the blade, folding his arms as he leaned again against the tree.
There was laughter behind her eyes, that thick and smoky hunger. “You comin’ to bed?”
Ahh well, there was that. He was a man in his last days, after all.
EDIT: Since there are probably going to be quite a few more of these, would anyone be willing to beta? ;D